


Just Pretend

by stilinski_wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orphan Black, And Derek is Paul, Bottom!Stiles, M/M, Orphan Black!AU, Parent!Stiles - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Punk!Stiles, Stiles is Sarah pretending to be Beth, You don't need to have watched Orphan Black to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinski_wolf/pseuds/stilinski_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles sees a guy who looks exactly like him commit suicide right in front of him, he steals his things he left on the train station when no one is looking and goes to his apartment, intending to stay for a day or two and get whatever he can out of the dead man (money, things to sell, etc) - and tries to ignore how much the man had looked like him. </p><p>But when Stiles seems to come across the jackpot - this dude had a ton of money - Stiles stays longer to get that money so he can pay off people he owes money to, and finally get to be with his daughter again.</p><p>But the longer Stiles stays, the weirder things get - not to mention that Stiles has to deal with the dead guy's boyfriend coming home, some guy named Derek. </p><p>And that situation, well that gets kinda tricky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Pretend

It was just supposed to be a place he could crash for a couple days so that he could get back on his feet and move on. He needed to enlist Scott’s help to try and get his daughter back from their own adoptive mother. Stiles was doing better now, even if he was kind of hiding from his druggie ex. But he didn’t matter. 

What mattered was his daughter.

But then he found a bank statement that had just been lying around on the kitchen counter. The guy - he found out his name had been Elliot - who must have been his twin that got separated from him or something, had over 700,000 dollars in his bank account. The things he could do with that much money, the debts he could pay, the people he could get off his back. This meant freedom.

Stiles died his hair, that was about the same lengths as Elliot’s had been, all brown, hating to see the blond and pink streaks go. He watched videos of Elliot with his boyfriend - the boyfriend was really hot, no doubt about that - and tried to get his particular way of speaking down pat. He had to be as much like Elliot as he could be to convince the bankers. 

There was a note left by the boyfriend saying he’d be gone all weekend, so that left Stiles plenty of time to clear out the bank account and get the hell out of dodge as fast as possible without the guy having to ever know Stiles was ever there.

Some woman named Lydia kept calling the Elliot guy’s cellphone, but Stiles just pressed ignore. Sorry Lydia whoever you are, Stiles thought. 

=*=

Stiles is able to fool the bankers, but there’s one hitch. He has to wait to get all of the money, as they can’t just hand him 700,000 dollars in cash right off the bat.

Great. Fucking great.

Looks like Stiles was going to have to stick around for the weekend.

Except that when he gets back from the bank and is about to tell Scott of this new development, he’s stopped by this supposed Lydia, who is apparently Elliot’s partner. Detective Lydia Martin.

Because Elliot is - was - a cop. Right, of course.

Stiles tries not to panic in the car ride over, ignores Lydia’s suspicious eyes as he tries to answer her questions about where he’d been and what he’d been doing as best as he can. 

Turns out Elliot had shot and killed someone in the line of duty and had to be questioned thoroughly about it by a committee of people. Stiles felt his heart racing the whole time, thought about how he could get out of it. When he was able to be excused to the bathroom, he did the only thing he could think of. He drank the soap, trying not to throw up - not yet - as he did so. 

Just as they were about to start questioning him, Stiles threw up all over the table, to the utter disgust of everyone in the room. 

But they rescheduled it. Stiles had bought himself some time. Thank fuck.

Ignoring Lydia’s suspicious eyes, Stiles left the police station, the file that held Elliot’s report on the incident in his hand, heart in his throat.

=*=

Stiles read up on as much as he could about the shooting, wondered if that’s what sent Elliot over the edge. Literally. He had found anti-depressants in the bathroom cabinet, though, and they were weeks, months old. Whoever Elliot had been, whatever he had done, he wasn’t a happy person.

So, Stiles would just have to go in the next day and relay what the file said, had memorized it word for word, get that over with, then get the money the day after that, and then be out of the apartment before the boyfriend got back. 

Stiles had to admit, it was weird seeing a photo of someone who looked like him cuddling and being all kissy kissy with the hot boyfriend guy when Stiles had never actually seen or met this guy in person. Could Elliot have been his twin? Then how had they gotten separated?

With these thoughts swirling in his head, Stiles took a shower. The shower was pretty nice, spacious, the walls and door of it made of glass, the water pouring the shower head was warm and strong. It had been a long time since Stiles had had such a nice shower.

When he got out he slipped on his boxers, slipped on his favorite Led Zeppelin shirt, and started rifling through Elliot’s clothes in the walk-in closest - the guy had a fucking walk-in closet.

Elliot had definitely had more expensive taste that Stiles, with countless suits and dress shirts, slacks, shiny black shoes. 

Stiles was rifling through the guy’s bedside drawer when he heard a key in the lock and then the front door opening.

“Fuck.” Stiles hissed, closing the drawer with a snap and looking around frantically. “Shit Shit Shit!” Stiles panicked as he shoved some of his things in his bag, trying to hide anything that looked remotely out of the ordinary, anything that was Stiles’ and not Elliot’s.

“Elliot, you home? Hey.” Stiles whirled around, trying to appear calm as the boyfriend - Derek? That had been the name Elliot had used on the home video - as Derek appeared in the doorway, looking sexy as hell, a small smile on his face. 

“H-Hey.” Stiles got out, letting a tentative smile come across his features as inside he started to panic and his heart rate started to skyrocket. “What are you doing home early?” Stiles held back the wince at the way his tone came out. 

“Well, you had that hearing at the precinct today and it just didn’t feel right, being away while you went through all that.” Derek said, still staying planted in the doorway as Stiles stood so that the bed was between them.

“Oh.” Stiles said, playing with his fingers nervously behind his back, hating the awkward silence that followed.

“So?” Derek said with a raised eyebrow.

“So?” Stiles repeated, letting the word drag out as he looked at Derek i confusion.

Derek sighed. “How did it go today? The hearing.” 

“Oh! Oh, right. They um, they had to reschedule it.” Stiles shrugged, fidgeting where he stood. “I threw up.” Stiles explained at Derek’s confused look.

“What? Are you okay?” Derek took a step forward and Stiles tried to keep in place, to not move back as Derek stepped closer.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine now.” Stiles waved it away as the words rushed out of his mouth. “It was just a stomach bug thing. Must have been what I had for lunch.” Stiles tried to play cool, tried not to let his panic show as he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Derek nodded slowly, his gaze traveling over Stiles’ form, a suspicious look in his eye.

Stiles kept up the calm facade, a smile on his face.

“When did you get that t-shirt?” Derek said out of the blue, pointing to the shirt Stiles was wearing. 

Stiles looked down at it. 

“Because I’ve never seen you wear it. And I didn’t know you liked Led Zeppelin.” Derek said, stepping closer toward the bed between them.

Stiles shrugged, played with the hem of the t-shirt in his nervousness. “Oh, I just got it yesterday. I saw it and I liked it, so…” Stiles shrugged.

“I’ve never heard you listen to them in the three years we’ve been together, Elliot.” Derek said, his eyes narrowed.

Stiles shrugged, moving from his safe spot and leaving the room as he said casually, “I’ve listened to them. You just must have not been around when I did.”

Derek followed Stiles into the kitchen as Stiles proceeded to reach up into the cabinet and get down two wineglasses. “Wine?” Stiles looked over his shoulder briefly at Derek, who was watching Stiles closely. 

“Sure.” Derek said absentmindedly as Stiles poured the wine, coming to stand next to Stiles. Stiles tried not to let his proximity affect him. "You look different. Did you do something to your hair?“ Derek said, absently picking up the wineglass and drinking from it.

"I uh…got it cut.” Stiles shrugged, not quite meeting Derek’s eyes. 

“It looks longer.” Derek said, his eyes focused intently on Stiles.

“It’s just…wet.” Stile shrugged, reaching up to nervously run a hand through his hair. Fuck, he should have cut it, he knew it. But how Derek could tell that his hair was just a little bit longer than Elliot’s was, Stiles would never know. 

Derek inched closer to Stiles, the suspicion clear in his eyes, making Stiles nervous and fidgety. But he held Derek’s gaze steadily. 

“Have you taken your medication, Elliot?” Derek asked, moving even closer, making it a little bit harder for Stiles to breathe. The air was charged with tension. 

“Yeah, of course.” Stiles said, taking a sip of wine and then setting the glass on the counter.

“How long ago?” Derek said, and he was officially in Stiles’ personal space, the hair on Stiles’ arms standing up as if the air was charged with electricity, and even though he was probably only an inch or two taller than Stiles, it felt like he was towering over him. “Because you aren’t supposed to drink alcohol with your medication, right?" 

Stiles gulped, running his hand along the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "I took them a few hours ago, it’s okay.”

Derek bent his head closer, and it was officially harder for Stiles to breathe. “You’re acting strange, Elliot. Not like yourself.”

Stiles looked straight into Derek’s eyes, and it felt like the air could crackle, the tension was so thick, so hot between them. 

“Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on with you? You’ve been acting even stranger than usual and I just-”

And Stiles did the only thing he could think of, the only thing he knew would get Derek to shut up and stop asking questions that Stiles didn’t have the answers to. 

He kissed Derek, messily, passionately, roughly.

Sex, Stiles could do. Even if it was with a virtual stranger. Stiles was an expert at sex, knew how to use for his own purposes, for other purposes, or even for his own pleasure, his own enjoyment. At that moment, he was using sex. Using it to help himself. His life had quickly become a mess within a matter of days, and he had to fix it. To do that, he need Derek off his back, and out of his life. 

He had to start somewhere in hurrying that along.

But Stiles hadn’t been expecting Derek to respond so enthusiastically, hadn’t even expected himself to respond so enthusiastically. 

Stiles pulled back from the kiss to rip off his shirt, to pull at Derek’s shirt, and kiss Derek all the while, feeling shivers run down his spine as Derek’s mouth ravaged his, as Derek’s hands touched his bare flesh. 

“Lube, get the lube. And condoms.” Stiles murmured between hot, biting kisses, moaned as Derek pushed down Stiles’ boxers enough to give his ass a firm squeeze. 

Derek detached himself from Stiles to only run into the bedroom and come out a few moments later, lube and a condom in hand. Stiles rushed forward and kissed Derek before anything more could be said. 

They practically ripped each other’s clothes off, Stiles pushing Derek against the kitchen island, running his hands over Derek’s amazing chest and abs. Fuck, this guy was ripped. 

“Come on, fuck me, Derek. Fuck me.” Stiles said tightly, head thrown back in pleasure as Derek licked and bit at his throat. Fuck, Stiles wasn’t expecting to be so hard so soon. 

Derek made a low, pleasure filled noise and jumped up on the island to lay back and Stiles could climb up on top of him and straddle his legs, looking his fill at Derek’s cock, finding himself longing to put it in his mouth.

But he refrained, hissing in pleasure as Derek brought lube coated fingers to his ass, pushing two in immediately. 

“Fuck.” Stiles bit out, grabbing the condom and opening it with shaky fingers, being careful not to break it in his haste. 

“Elliot.” Derek moaned out, and Sties tried not to falter at that, pushed through it as Derek prepped Stiles as thoroughly and meticulously as he could, even managing to hit Stiles’ prostate.

“Ah!” Stiles threw his head back on a gasp, stars erupting behind his eyelids as Derek hit just the right spot, stretched him just enough. 

“Come on, I’m ready, Derek. Come on.” Stiles said harshly, and Derek’s fingers disappeared, Derek putting his hands on Stiles’ hips and pulling him right over his cock. Stiles took a hold of the base of Derek, watching Derek gasp and throw his head back in a moan as he sunk down on his cock.

Stiles closed his eyes, took a moment to adjust to the feeling of Derek inside him, gave Derek a moment.

And then he started riding him roughly, fast, harsh, bobbing up and down so quickly on Derek’s cock that Derek was moaning more and more, gasping in the quick, fast, dirty pleasure of it all, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Stiles, making it more intimate that Stiles would have liked. 

“Fucking hell.” Derek choked out, and Stiles moaned his agreement, eyes half lidded as he focused on the wide wall behind them. He tried to remember he was doing this for a reason, that this was more than just for enjoyment, for pleasure. 

But one rough lift of Derek’s hips up into him had Stiles almost sobbing, the pleasure was so good. 

Their breaths heavy and panting, the air thick, the feeling in their guts mounted, quickened, thickened, until their was only brain melting pleasure.

Stiles found himself throwing his head back as he felt Derek take hold of Stiles’ cock and start pumping it quickly, expertly, keening high and loud as Derek came forward and bit softly into the flesh of his neck. 

Sweat pooled along Stiles’ forehead, his eyes fell closed, he found himself gripping onto Derek tightly as he bounced up and down on his cock, as Derek jacked him off so amazingly. One of Stiles’ hands found it’s way into Derek’s hair and gripped tightly. 

“I’m going to come.” Stiles grunted out, and Derek moaned, low and long, as he went back to lying on his back, and Stiles instantly felt cold, even though Derek took hold of his hips and started pistoning himself into Stiles, his upward thrusts quick and rough, and it was so, so fucking good that Stiles felt like crying. “Ah, ah, AH!” Stiles shouted, and then he moaned one long, broken moan as he came, his come landing all over Derek’s stomach, his chest, and even getting close to his neck. 

Stiles’ mind had turned to mush, and he only had enough brain power to feel Derek thrust up, one, two, three more times before he was freezing as he came, his head thrown back as he let out a moan of his own. 

And with that, Stiles collapsed on top of Derek, not caring that his own come would now stick to his chest, too. 

Stiles could barely breathe, and by Derek’s stilted, harsh, uneven breathing, Stiles guessed that Derek was the same way.

They were both sweaty, both blissed out and weak from a round of truly mind blowing sex. Stiles couldn’t remember the last time sex was this good, if ever. Fucking hell.

Derek slipped out of Stiles after some time, and Stiles winced at the empty feeling, but he relaxed when Derek did nothing more than that, didn’t even attempt to move.

Stiles was dead. He’d just been fucked to death. That was the only way to describe how he was feeling.

Motherfucking hell, Derek had wrecked him, had taken him apart, and Stiles could barely remember what this had been about in the first place.

All he could think about in that moment was Derek, and his arms wrapped loosely around his waist, and his soft breath fanning over Stiles’ neck. It felt nice, it felt good. It felt fucking amazing.

Stiles let his mind clear of all thoughts, let himself forget about how messed up his life had become in just a few short days, and that just because he and Derek had fucked, that it didn’t change a damn thing. 

He didn’t think of any of it, and just pressed closer in to Derek, into his warmth. 

He’d deal with reality later.


End file.
